


objects in motion

by sinnabar (fishtank)



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Gen, Mental Health Issues, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5809525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishtank/pseuds/sinnabar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Dee thinks the reason she and Mac have never gotten along is that they’re just too much the same; both of them caught up in Dennis’s orbit, thriving on whatever attention he deems fit to bestow on them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	objects in motion

**Author's Note:**

> I'm endlessly intrigued by the living situation between Dennis, Dee and Mac in seasons 10 and 11, and I wanted to use that as a jumping-off point to explore a few other issues; most notably Dee's perspective on macdennis, the often-strained relationship between Mac and Dee, and how all three of them would cope with Dennis's deteriorating mental health over the course of season 10.
> 
> Content warning for discussion of mental health issues and eating disorders, extremely toxic relationships, and canon-typical awfulness. Standard disclaimer that all of these characters are terrible people and I'm trying to represent that as accurately as possible. All that being said, there's a distinct possibility that this is way too serious for the canon in question - but hey, there's a fine line between tragedy and comedy, right?

Dee should have known, really, when Mac and Dennis lost their apartment, that it would end up biting _her_ in the ass.

Her first mistake was offering to let Dennis crash at hers for a few days, in the spirit of Thanksgiving togetherness. Even amongst a group as chaotic and disorderly as the Gang, there are few things to foster solidarity quite like locking all of one’s shared enemies in a burning apartment, and if she’s being honest – which she generally tries to avoid – a part of her had thought it might actually be fun having Dennis to herself. That it would be like going back to when they were kids, in the days before Mac and Charlie, when it was just the two of them against their parents and the rest of the world.

Unfortunately, she’d failed to take into account the fact that where Dennis goes, Mac generally follows, and as soon as she’d floated the idea of Dennis moving in with her for a while he’d started hanging around and pretending to be all buddy-buddy with her, flashing his sad puppy eyes and generally sucking up to her in the way he only ever does when she wants something.

Dee had wanted nothing more than to tell him to shove it just on principle, because while she might still be pathetic enough to jump at the chance to hang out with Dennis, the idea of having Mac around all hours of the day doesn’t appeal in the slightest. She guesses that technically she and Mac are friends by virtue of the fact that they’ve hung out together practically every day for the last twenty years, but they’re not really _friends_ – if it wasn’t for Dennis and Paddy’s, they’d have no reason to be in each other’s lives, and even as it is they generally spend as little time together with just the two of them as they can get away with.

On the other hand, she still remembers just how pathetic and irritating Dennis had been after only a few hours without Mac around to cater to his every whim. She’d been struck by a disturbingly vivid premonition of spending the rest of her life peeling his goddamn apples for him, and she just – she can’t deal with that, okay? There are only two possible ways for that scenario to end, and both of them involve one Reynolds twin murdering the other in some kind of fruit-related rage.

So she’d relented and grudgingly agreed to let both Mac and Dennis take up residence in her living room, and that’s how they got to where they are now; “a few days” quickly turning into weeks with neither of them making any discernible effort to start looking for a new place, despite taking every available opportunity to criticize her apartment, her living habits, and her general existence.

All in all, it’s not really where Dee imagined she’d be at this point in her life: not only is she pushing forty and still working a bartending job with any remaining dreams of an acting career in tatters, she now has her psychotic brother and his best friend taking up precious floor space in her already-cramped apartment. Between Dennis hogging the bathroom for an hour every morning to primp and preen himself, and Mac using her TV to watch his weird homoerotic fitness videos while her shows are on, she thinks she might just end up snapping and killing one of them anyway.

(At least they’re both relatively tidy. She pictures what could have happened if Charlie had been the one to move in with her, and tells herself it could have been worse.)

\--

“Hey, Dee, do you think I’ve put on weight?” Dennis asks one morning, standing shirtless in front of the full-length mirror in her room. “I mean, I _have_ been in a bit of a dry spell lately –" at this, his face twists into a grimace, like admitting it out loud physically pains him – “and there must be a reason for it. Maybe I’ve been letting myself go without even noticing.”

Dee considers pointing out that maybe he hasn’t been having much luck with the ladies because he’s a creepy weirdo who insists on almost exclusively hitting on girls half his age, but it’s certain to fall on deaf ears. Instead, she pretends to think over the question, making a show of critically looking him up and down. If anything, he looks thinner than usual, but he and Mac spent ten solid minutes comparing her nose to a beak yesterday, and she’s feeling spiteful.

“I guess maybe you’ve put on a few pounds, but that’s to be expected, right? I mean, we’re not getting any younger.”

She shrugs at him like _what are you gonna do_ and leaves the room before she has to listen to the inevitable tantrum. In all honesty, she forgets about the entire exchange, preoccupied with other things, until a few days later when Dennis has acquired the anemic pallor that always accompanies his bouts of self-starvation and Mac takes to glaring daggers at her from across the room, like he knows she’s somehow responsible.

(Dee ruthlessly squashes the part of her that feels a tiny bit guilty. It’s not like anyone has ever cared when _she_ avoids food for three days or makes herself throw up after a meal, and Dennis will always be severely screwed up about his body, with or without her help.)

One morning she walks into the kitchen to find the two of them locked in a standoff, Dennis resolutely refusing to eat the stack of pancakes that Mac has apparently cooked for him while Mac hovers like a large, tattooed mother hen. There’s also flour all over Dee’s goddamn countertops, but she’s willing to put that on the back-burner for now; she didn’t even realize Mac knew _how_ to make pancakes for one thing, and she can always yell at him for it later. Besides, she’s kind of intrigued to see how this whole thing plays out; whether Mac’s incredible bossiness will be enough to overcome Dennis when he’s in this kind of stubborn mood.

(She’s willing to admit to a modicum of curiosity where the Mac-and-Dennis domestic routine is concerned, because she has no idea how the whole thing works. Sometimes they’re so in sync it’s like talking to the grossest kind of married couple, while at other times they seem so diametrically opposed that Dee can’t even begin to understand how they’ve lived together this long without coming to serious blows.)

“Come on, dude, you have to eat something,” Mac says, pouring syrup over his own pancakes with a little too much enthusiasm to be totally genuine. It all strikes Dee as being slightly ironic; nobody under this roof has what could ever be called a healthy relationship with food, but of the three of them Mac’s the only one to have an actual, therapist-approved diagnosis of body dysmorphia. Even if his thing is more or less the exact opposite of the issues that have plagued the Reynolds twins since adolescence.

Dennis apparently feels the same way, if the pointed look he casts in Mac’s direction is any indication. “Yeah, I’m not gonna take my dietary advice from a man who gained sixty pounds in a month, thanks. If you keep eating like that you’re gonna get diabetes again, and I’m not gonna push your wheelchair around when your foot falls off.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the way it works, bro.”

“Oh, you’re a doctor now? You can’t even _pronounce_ diabetes!”

Dee lets their sniping wash over her as she fiddles with the coffeemaker and generally tries to be as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she really needs to bother – neither one of them has acknowledged her presence yet, which suits her just fine.

“Just have _one,_ ” Mac wheedles. “You don’t wanna end up fainting like a girl on your big date tonight.”

“Oh, for – fine. _Fine,_ if it’ll shut you up.” Dennis stabs a pancake with all the violence of a serial killer imparting the fatal blow, cuts off the tiniest piece possible and shoves it into his mouth, making a big production out of chewing and swallowing. “There. Happy? Now if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be.”

With that, he bolts up out of his chair and stalks out of the room, muttering under his breath the whole way. Dee has no idea where he could possibly be going, since none of them needs to be at the bar for at least another three hours, but it doesn’t matter; the front door slams hard enough to rattle its hinges before either of them can think to ask.

Mac stares forlornly after him, absently dumping even more syrup all over his plate. Dee sits down in Dennis’s vacated seat with a sigh, helping herself to his abandoned pancakes. They’re actually not half bad.

\--

After the whole mess with Psycho Pete, Dee ends up devoting more of her free time than she’s comfortable admitting to researching borderline personality disorder. It’s not that she’s remotely interested in actually helping Dennis – and even if she was, he’s made it more than clear that he’s not willing to be helped – it’s purely self-preservation, arming herself with knowledge to help her predict her brother’s increasingly unpredictable mood swings on the off-chance she might be able to see the next storm coming before it hits.

(She still keeps the medication in her room, just in case. Not that she holds out much hope for Dennis ever actually taking it, or even admitting he needs to in the first place. As far as he’s concerned, the diagnosis was a genius scam on his part to get the pills for Pete.)

Almost a whole week passes without incident, until one night after the chickens-steaks-and-airmiles scheme when Mac knocks on her door – something that’s unusual in and of itself, given that he normally just barges right in without any respect for things like personal boundaries. Dennis is out with some girl, which is another warning sign; even now that they’re living together, she and Mac have a mutual unspoken agreement to stay out of each other’s way when Dennis isn’t around to mediate between them.

“Hey, Dee,” Mac says sheepishly, shuffling in her doorway like a naughty schoolboy called into the principal’s office. Not a good start. “I was just wondering – do you maybe have some info on that personality thing Dennis has?”

_That_ surprises her, and it takes a few seconds before she can get it together enough to adopt a suitably condescending tone. “Oh, Mac, it’s cute that you want to play at being therapist, but don’t you think you should leave it to those of us who actually studied psychology?”

“Uh, didn’t you fail all your classes?”

“At least I _went_ to college!” Dee rallies, automatic. Mac clenches his jaw and sucks in a deep breath before forcing all the air out between his teeth, like he’s actually making an effort not to be a total asshole for once.

“That’s not – look, Dee, I didn’t come to pick a fight, okay? I just… I want to understand, you know? Sometimes it’s good with Dennis, really good, and then sometimes he just snaps and does shit like this, and I don’t even know why.”

He gestures to the row of bloody scratches still healing on his face, and dammit, Dee is not going to feel sorry for him. Still, Mac is probably the only other person in the world who’s ever going to care enough to try and save Dennis from himself – or to save the rest of the world from Dennis, whichever – and she guess it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else on the lookout for signs of an impending meltdown. She suddenly remembers that Mac actually went to the effort of reading an anatomy textbook when he was dating Carmen, and coupled with all his ridiculous sermonizing from the Bible whenever he wants to prove a point… Mac isn’t smart, far from it, but when he actually cares about something, he’ll put in the time to study up on it.

The fact that Dennis and his mental wellbeing apparently falls under the list of things Mac cares about is easily the least shocking revelation of the last few weeks.

“I guess I can print out what I have for you,” Dee says, like she’s making a huge effort, “but one of these days you’re gonna have to join the rest of us in the twenty-first century and get your own damn computer.”

\--

Perhaps the most surprising aspect of having Mac and Dennis living with her is that it isn’t always awful. When Dennis is in a good mood, it’s infectious, and the three of them spend a fair amount of time doing stupid shit like practicing their a capella routines and watching dumb action movies, Dennis squashed in between Dee and Mac on her tiny sofa. They accumulate enough in-jokes that Charlie expresses jealousy on more than one occasion, and Dee has to admit, it feels good to be on the inside for once.

The two of them still put an ungodly amount of effort into making fun of her, but somehow the jibes seem less cruel and more routine, the kind of harmless banter that occurs when you hang out exclusively with the same group of people for two decades. Even better, sometimes it goes the other way, with Dennis and Dee ganging up on Mac for his low-class upbringing and delusions of being tough and heterosexual – and even now, even though she’d die before saying it out loud, there are few things that make Dee feel as good as when she and Dennis are on the same wavelength, that perfect twin-sync that bonds them together no matter what.

All of which is why she’s actually eager to help when they ask her to spy on the fish factory opposite the bar, even if it means she ends up in the hospital after a series of embarrassing accidents, reeking of fish guts and missing a chunk of her hair. When Charlie tells her later that the whole thing was just a ploy to get her out of the apartment so they could jerk off, she’s not exactly surprised, but she’s maybe a little hurt – and that pisses her off more than anything else because really, it’s not like she should have expected any better. She’s not in high school anymore; she doesn’t need approval from those guys, except apparently she does. It’s pathetic.

But anyway. Fuck that.

\--

When Dennis insists they all spend some time away from the Gang in order to find themselves or whatever bullshit, it seems like a good idea on paper. In reality, things are made a little tricky by the fact that Dee lives with two of them and they all work in the same goddamn bar, so she compromises and settles for just getting away from Mac and Dennis for a while, spending all her time with Charlie instead.

In truth, she’s always liked hanging out with Charlie. There’s something guileless, even sweet about him that they haven’t quite managed to stamp out yet, and when it’s just the two of them, when he’s away from the toxic influence of Dennis and Mac and Frank, he talks to her like he actually likes her, like they’re actually friends.

(Sometimes Dee thinks Charlie is the sanest one out of all of them. Sometimes she wants to tell him to run far and fast, before they can sully him any more than they already have, but she’s too damn selfish for that.)

Things get weird for a while, but it can’t last – she knows it can’t last – and they pretty much snap right back to normal again afterwards. Without ever voicing it out loud, she and Charlie form an agreement not to tell any of the others about their hook-up. Partly because it’s none of their goddamn business, but mostly because it’s something just for the two of them, something that the rest of the Gang can never be allowed to ruin. Even if they both know it'll never happen again.

Frank goes back to pouring all of his money into whatever half-baked scheme they come up with this week. Mac remains firmly in the closet. Dennis pulls the Range Rover out of the river, and they all continue pretending his increasingly frequent outbursts of rage aren’t a problem.

Nobody changes or grows. The song remains the same.

\--

Mac drives the three of them back to the apartment after their predictably disastrous turn on Family Fight, Dee still woozy from her fast while Dennis sobs and rants in the backseat, throwing a tantrum that would put most three-year-olds to shame.

In true toddler fashion, he manages to exhaust himself and is out like a light by the time they arrive at Dee’s building, which makes getting him up the stairs challenging to say the least. The first item on her agenda once they finally make it inside is fixing herself a sandwich before she passes out again, and when she turns around Dennis is curled up on the sofa with his head pillowed in Mac’s lap, still sniffling quietly even in his sleep. Mac is watching him with a weird, soft expression on his face, stroking Dennis’s hair in a way that Dee’s sure he can’t possibly be conscious of or he wouldn’t be doing it, at least not while she’s in the room.

It makes her feel uneasy, like she’s witnessing something she shouldn’t be, and she’s torn between opposing desires to leave the room and forget she ever saw anything or grab her camera and get it all on record for blackmailing purposes. In the end, she takes the middle ground and plunks herself down in the armchair, because it’s her goddamn apartment and if she has to feel uncomfortable, it’s only fair that Mac should too.

Several minutes pass in silence, save for the sound of Dee’s chewing and Dennis’s uneven breathing, before either of them speaks.

“He’s getting worse,” Mac says finally, not looking at her. Dee glances at her brother; he’s a mess, mascara streaked down his face, pink-cheeked from all the crying. She always thinks it should be more satisfying, seeing him get taken down a notch, especially when he’d been lording it over the rest of them all day, insisting that they’d be the ones to ruin everything with their lowbrow humor and lack of class. In reality, it’s mostly just kind of sad.

“He needs to take his goddamn meds,” she says by way of a reply.

Mac snorts. “You wanna try telling him that, go ahead. I don’t really feel like getting my eyes scratched out.”

Dee doesn’t really have an answer for that. She’s not used to actually being worried for Dennis, is the thing. Dennis is supposed to always be fine, to be the one who lands on his feet and remains untouched no matter what – only it’s becoming increasingly clear that he’s not fine, that he needs help, and Dee is woefully unqualified to give it. An uncompleted psych major from fifteen years ago doesn’t exactly prepare a person for this kind of real-world application.

“Help me get him into bed,” Mac says after a while, looking at Dee for the first time since they got in. “No offence, Dee, but your couch is uncomfy as shit, and he’ll bitch about it all day tomorrow if we let him sleep here.”

Dee bites back the retort on the tip of her tongue that if they hate her couch so much they’re more than welcome to leave, too drained to get into it right now. Between the two of them they manage to manoeuver Dennis onto the mattress that’s set up in the corner of the room; there’s a moment where he stirs as though he might wake up, and they both wait with bated breath for what seems like hours but can really only be a few seconds until he settles back down into sleep again.

Sometimes Dee thinks that Dennis is a time bomb slowly ticking down to zero; the inevitable explosion is going to be messy, and painful, and she doesn’t want to be caught in the blast radius when it happens.

\--

She arrives home one evening to be greeted by Mac and Dennis yelling at each other loud enough to be heard from the end of the hallway and gives serious consideration to turning right around and heading straight back out again so she doesn’t have to deal with it. Her date was a bust, and she wants nothing more than to crawl into bed, but then she also doesn’t want to have to spend the night at the bar – or worse, with Charlie and Frank – just because her apartment has been taken over by two oversized man-children. It’s the principle of the thing.

When she opens the door, the man-children in question are staring each other down, both red-faced and wild-haired; there’s maybe two inches of space between them, and the tension in the room feels like a living thing. Dee gets that uneasy feeling in her gut again, like she’s not supposed to be seeing this, and for one wild moment she wants to yell at them to just make out already, before they end up killing each other and taking her down with them.

“You two dickwads want to scream a little louder, maybe?” she says instead. “I think there might be some people two blocks away who didn’t quite catch that last part.”

“Get the fuck out, Dee,” Dennis snaps, without taking his eyes off Mac.

“Uh, it’s my apartment, asshole. _You_ get the fuck out.”

Dennis whirls on her, and for a terrifying instant Dee thinks that this is finally it, the moment where he snaps and murders her in cold blood, but he just pushes past her and storms out of the apartment, ranting about how they’re goddamn idiots and he’ll make them regret crossing him.

_Déjà vu,_ Dee thinks.

Mac sinks down onto the sofa, his entire body seeming to deflate as the fight goes out of him, and Dee really, _really_ wants to go to bed but he looks so miserable that she takes pity on him and goes to the kitchen to pour two glasses of whiskey from the secret stash that neither of her roommates have managed to find yet. She finds herself almost hoping for the obligatory snide remark about her drinking habits when she returns, anything to put them back on familiar ground, but Mac is unnaturally silent. He drains his glass as soon as she hands it to him, rakes his hands through his hair until it’s sticking out at weird angles. He looks exhausted in a way that Dee can’t ever remember seeing him before.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Dee,” he admits quietly.

Dee thinks that her therapist would probably call this a breakthrough, and then she panics, because if Mac walks out then she’ll be the only one left to clean up after Dennis’s messes. She’s struck by a vision of the two of them stuck together in this apartment for the rest of their lives, growing older and more twisted and hating each other more as the decades pass, and she takes a generous sip from her own drink, steeling herself to say whatever she needs to say to fix this.

“Look, you know he’s too goddamn proud to say it to your face, but Dennis is a pathetic mess without you,” she begins, and that much at least is true. “You remember a few years back when you guys tried to take a break or whatever? He could barely function then, and that was only for a couple of days. He’s more, I don’t know, s _table_ when you’re around.”

“You call this stable?” Mac says, but he doesn’t sound quite as defeated as he had a moment ago.

“Yeah, I know the last few months haven’t exactly been great,” Dee forges on. _Understatement._ “But you can’t run away from this. It’ll crush him if you leave. He needs you.” She grits her teeth, forces herself to say the one thing she knows Mac needs to hear above all else.

“He loves you.”

“That’s kinda gay,” Mac scoffs, but she can tell that he’s pleased just from the way he shifts self-consciously next to her on the sofa, and it’s too damn easy. It’s almost embarrassing, how easy he is to manipulate.

(Dee refuses to feel bad. She’s got herself to look out for, and if the shoe was on the other foot Mac would throw her under the bus without a second thought.)

\--

She hadn’t really understood it, when Dennis first started hanging out with Mac back in high school. He’d been so obsessed with establishing himself as part of the popular crowd that he refused to be seen in public with Dee, thanks to her back brace and general uncoolness, yet he had no issue spending all his time under the bleachers with a drug-dealing snitch and his weird, unhygienic little friend.

At first she’d thought maybe it was a phase he’d grow out of, a way of acting out against the stuffiness of their parents. Even when they were teenagers, Dennis had craved constant stimulation, seeking out new thrills only to grow bored of them weeks later, and Mac was a white-trash delinquent with a convict father and access to pot. She could maybe understand why Dennis had taken an interest in him as his latest pet project, a see-how-the-other-half-lives kind of thing, but she’d assumed Dennis would ditch him as soon as he’d had his fill and something more exciting came along to grab his attention.

Only Mac was the one project Dennis never got bored of. Even when he and Dee went to college, Dennis still made sure to check in with Mac practically every day, and after graduation they moved in together, and then they bought a bar together, and the rest is history.

It might have taken Dee the better part of twenty years, but she thinks she finally gets it now. For someone like Dennis, whose ego is so massive and so fragile all at once, there can surely be nothing more satisfying than unconditional love; the certainty that no matter how much he pushes a person’s limits, no matter how much he manipulates and hurts and abuses them, they’ll keep coming back for more, as sure as the sun rises each morning.

Sometimes she thinks the reason she and Mac have never gotten along is that they’re just too much the same; both of them caught up in Dennis’s orbit, thriving on whatever attention he deems fit to bestow on them. They’re in direct competition for the same finite resources, and so there will never be room for anything other than animosity between them.

(The real tragedy is that neither of them has a hope of competing against the true object of Dennis’s affections. Dennis will never love anybody as much as he loves himself.)

\--

She wakes up the next morning to the smell of pancakes and the sound of both Mac and Dennis singing along to the radio, and she thinks that maybe the storm has passed. She lies perfectly still and holds her breath for a count of five, not wanting to disturb the air or do anything that could bring it all crashing down again. Then she tells herself she’s being ridiculous, grabs her robe and makes her way into the kitchen.

“I’m guessing you boners made up then,” she says by way of a greeting. Dennis is actually eating this morning, which is surprising; there’s also a plate laid out for Dee, which is even more so.

“What?” Dennis looks and sounds genuinely confused, like he honestly has no idea what Dee is talking about. It’s more than a little unnerving. “You mean last night? Dee, that was just a minor disagreement. Our friendship is rock-solid. Which you might be able to appreciate, if you actually had any friends.”

Mac sniggers at that; Dee shoots him a narrow-eyed look, because surely even he can’t be this easy, but he refuses to meet her gaze.

“In fact,” Dennis continues, oblivious, “we’re gonna start looking for our own place later today. Sleeping on my sister’s floor has pretty much killed my game, and I think it’s time I got back out there.”

If Dee was a better person, she thinks, she’d tell them that there’s no rush, that they can stay as long as they need to until they get themselves sorted out. She’d at least wait until she could get Mac alone and ask if he’s sure he can cope with Dennis by himself. But she is who she is, and she’s tired, and she just wants them both out of her apartment and out of her hair so she can go back to not caring about their shit.

Besides, she knows Mac well enough to know that even if she were to offer her help, he’d brush her off and insist he can handle things just fine, thanks. People don’t change.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she says, “It’s not like I’ve been telling you both to get the hell out for the last three months or anything.”

(She’s not a bad person. She’s looking out for herself, and she doesn’t owe Mac a damn thing.)

She still makes sure to slip Dennis’s medication in with Mac’s stuff as they’re packing up to leave, for all the good it’ll do.

About a week after they move out, Dee shows up to work one day in a pair of pink pants. Mac calls her a flamingo and Dennis laughs and high-fives him like it’s the funniest goddamn thing he’s ever heard, and it’s so close to normal that Dee could almost convince herself the last few months have been some whacked-out dream, except there are dark shadows under Dennis’s eyes and fading scratches on Mac’s throat. Even a year ago, she wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss, but know that she knows the signs she can’t stop seeing them.

She thinks she would have been better off not knowing, about any of this. There’s some knowledge that once you have it, can’t be unlearned; the best you can do is bury it, and hope it doesn’t come back to bite you later on.

In Dee’s experience, people don’t grow or improve, and if they change at all they only get more twisted with age. Dennis will continue to fall apart without ever acknowledging that he’s anything other than a perfect, infallible being. Mac will keep trying to hold him together with duct tape and band-aids, temporary fixes that do nothing to treat the festering wound underneath. And Dee – Dee will continue to watch the whole ugly mess unfold in slow-motion and high-definition, unable and unwilling to intervene directly to prevent the inevitable catastrophe.

At least she’s aware of her issues, which is more than she can say for anybody else in her life. Some people might even call it progress.


End file.
